Rebellion: Three Destinies
by FemKat
Summary: Following the Rise of the Empire, three individuals from different backgrounds find their fates inexplicably intertwined. After a chance encounter, an Inquisitor, a Jedi and a rebel must find a way to work together or otherwise perish when things go terribly wrong for them all. Set in the Canon universe, but with Legends characters and lore. T for violence and some mild language.
1. Prologue: Sariah

**Author's Note**

Hey everyone! Just got a few things I wanted to say before the story. This is set in the Canon universe, but will feature Legends characters and lore later on, all things yet to have been confirmed in the Canon, but don't necessarily interfere with it (including my own crazy theories). I'm beginning with individual prologues for my three original characters to establish them, but once they are done, the timelines will match up. I'll also keep track of the dates and planets so it doesn't get too confusing. With that said, enjoy and I would love to hear feedback!

**19 BBY, Coruscant**

"Again."

Sariah pushed forwards, swinging her lightsaber over and over at her Jedi Master, Saram Bastoro. He countered every one of her strikes, moving with a speed she could match, but could not seem to exceed. It frustrated her to no end.

"Focus, Sariah," he urged. "You're letting your anger control you again."

She growled and leapt to the side, attempting to slash at his legs. He dodged with ease and she only cut air.

"I can't help it," she snapped, jumping back at his counterattack. "Not when you beat me every time. It's infuriating."

"Anger is the path that leads to-"

"I know, I know. Anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, which leads to the Dark Side of the Force..."

Master Bastoro ceased his attack, his blue-bladed lightsaber shutting off. "Sariah, we have spoken about this. You need to contain these negative emotions."

Sariah sighed and deactivated her lightsaber, its silver glow vanishing into the hilt. "I know, Master... I've been trying, but they always seem to come back."

The older Mirialan walked closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "When I took you as my Padawan, I vowed that I would train you into a worthy Jedi. I know you struggle. You have always struggled, but that it why I am here." A soft smile came to his lips. "Perhaps some meditation will help to clear your mind. Then we can try again. Does that sound fair?"

She nodded, smiling slightly herself. For all their struggles, Master Bastoro was always able to find ways to calm her. Although she had been chosen as his apprentice because Mirialan Masters only took Mirialan Padawans, she knew she would never make it under anyone else. A problem case, she had been called as a youngling. Never fully in control of her feelings. Master Yoda had said otherwise, but she couldn't help it. She had watched her family die as a child, murdered by pirates who wanted to take all they had. Master Bastoro had rescued her and taken her to the temple, where the Jedi had tried to make her forget it had ever happened. She never had and she never would, no matter what they tried to tell her.

She wasn't exactly a model Mirialan. She was not calm like Master Bastoro or Master Unduli nor did she have a particularly strong connection to the Living Force. Her face _was _inked with some tattoos already, but she had earned them all for physical feats, not spiritual or mental. And as the icing on the cake that was her incompetence, she had recently come under heavy scrutiny following Barriss Offee's fall to the Dark Side. She had her conspiracy theories, but Master Bastoro had advised her not to question the Council and so she kept her theories to herself.

Sariah ran her fingers through her short hair, brushing her Padawan braid as she reached the end of it. Three years ago, she had received it and it had been the greatest gift ever given to her. She had been told she would never make Padawan with her attitude, but Master Bastoro had seen something in her and even though they sometimes struggled to get along, she would have no one else training her.

"Shall we?" Master Bastoro asked, striding towards the door.

Sariah moved to follow, only to stop at the sudden sound of blaster fire coming from outside the training room door. Her eyes widened and she looked up to Master Bastoro, a surge of worrying thoughts coursing through her mind. "Master…?"

His azure eyes narrowed as he rested a hand on his lightsaber. "Stay here. Do not come out until I tell you to."

"But…" Sariah tried to argue, but he was already through the door before the word was finished coming out of her mouth.

She clenched her fists, staring at the door as the sound of blaster fire continued to reverberate in her ears. Only one thing could be happening and it took all her strength not to run out and fight against whoever was daring to attack the temple. The sound of the blasters was almost familiar, but she could not place it and it drove her insane. The ignorance was killing her and she was just about to go out after him when the blaster fire gave way to voices; voices that made her freeze in horror.

"He went this way. Find him!" The slightly muffled, orderly drawl of a clone trooper echoed outside the door.

"Yes, sir!" answered another and Sariah heard the distinctive movement of their armour as several–five at least, maybe more–spread out.

She fingered her lightsaber, feeling sweat dripping down the back of her neck. Master Bastoro had ordered her to stay, but if the clones were out there killing them…

She took a step closer to the door and drew her saber, her thumb on the ignition.

"We found him, sir! He's–" A clone screamed and Sariah heard the hum of a lightsaber outside, followed by many rapid footsteps.

"Shoot him!" another clone yelled as blasters began to fire off bolt after bolt. Sariah caught the signature sound one made after being deflected by a lightsaber, followed by a cry of pain from one of the clones.

"Leave this temple now! You have no right to be here!"

_Master Bastoro! _Sariah sprinted out the door, lightsaber activating in her hands as she rushed to help him.

The floor outside the training room was littered with the bodies of clones. She had expected them to have red markings, as those who served as Coruscant security did, but these ones were blue.

She did not dwell on her confusion for long, running towards the sound of fighting nearby. A clone crossed her path, his blaster raised to fire at her, but her lightsaber was through his heart before he could pull the trigger. She sped around a corner and saw Master Bastoro cutting a clone down, their bodies all around him. He was panting, whether from exhaustion or the blaster wound to his shoulder, Sariah did not know.

"Master!" she called out, causing him to turn to her, his eyes growing wide.

"Sariah! I told you to–" He suddenly gasped and clutched his throat, clawing at it as if he was being choked. His lightsaber dropped to the ground beside him as he began to hover in the air.

"Saram!" Sariah screamed, sprinting full-speed towards him. She had almost reached him when she heard a deafening crack and her master became frighteningly still.

All Sariah could feel was the pounding of her heart against her chest. The world became only a distant blur as she stared at him, her mind unable to accept the reality. It was only when his body dropped to the ground, completely lifeless, that she began to feel all the anger and grief within her bubble to the surface, raging to be released.

A man emerged from the shadows, his face hidden under a hood. One hand was half-curled into a fist; the other clutching a blue-bladed lightsaber. His eyes narrowed at her under the hood, but Sariah didn't care. She would kill him. Nothing else mattered now.

"Bastard!" she screamed, launching herself at him with lightning speed. Their lightsabers clashed, violent flashes of blue and silver light sparking off the glowing blades. She swung again and again, trying to beat past his defences and cut him down, but he was faster, countering every blow.

Sariah jumped back, narrowly avoiding a wide slash from him, and decided to try a different approach. She ran at the nearest of the many columns surrounding them, managing to get a few feet up before using it to propel herself over the man. She sailed through the air, slashing her lightsaber at his head as she did. He ducked out of the way just in time and raised a hand concealed by a black glove.

Sariah braced herself, but nothing could prevent her from flying across the room and slamming into one of the columns. A cry emerged from her mouth at the pain which coursed through her body and she slammed to the ground beneath it. Sariah struggled to get back to her feet, although every bone within her screamed at her to stop moving. A few of her ribs were broken and she could feel blood pooling under her robes, but she still got up, shaking as she faced the Fallen Jedi.

"Lord Vader!" The footsteps of more clones converged around her and Sariah heard the cocking of blasters behind her.

The world slowed for Sariah. Between the cloaked man and the troopers readying to shoot her, she was trapped. What was there left to fight for? Her master was dead and soon, she would follow him. What did she have left to lose? She curled her fingers, letting the Force flow through her before she snapped around and let it explode.

The clones flew backwards, screaming as her power ensorcelled them and tore them apart. She gripped one, choking the life from him, while slamming another into the ground simultaneously. Her fury spilled from her like her blood and tears, streaming from the wound at her side and down her cheeks. Reaching out with the Force as she was, she felt the suffering of the other Jedi in the temple as the clones gunned them down. She wept, wailing as she murdered the clones with the same mercy they showed her brothers and sisters.

Pain erupted in her shoulder and she collapsed, the havoc she had created ceasing instantly. She winced, clutching the blaster burn with a sharp gasp. She closed her eyes, blinking away more tears, and waited to die.

"Stop." The hooded man spoke for the first time and Sariah turned her head, staring at him in disbelief.

"Sir?" asked the clone who had shot her.

"Set to stun. Lord Sidious will want her alive." He was already walking away before he had finished speaking.

Sariah opened her mouth to beg them to kill her, but a shock went through her body and all became dark.


	2. Prologue: Jaren

**Author's Note**

The Core Worlds Classic is of my own creation. I imagine it just as a speeder race held annually between planets such as Coruscant, Duro and Alderaan.

**16 BBY, Alderaan**

"This is amazing!"

Jaren Jarvi raised his arms above his head, feeling the chilly wind rush across them as his brother's speeder soared through Alderaan's sky. Mountains rose closely on either side of them, but Marc maneuvered the craft so expertly around them that Jaren had no fear of crashing into them. He couldn't care about anything else; right now, he was in perfect bliss.

"Jaren, sit down!" Marc cried over the wind, straining his head to look at him. "Mother will kill me if anything happens to you!"

"Mother will kill you if she finds out you took me on a joyride!" Jaren countered, sticking out his tongue.

Marc gave him the stink eye, but said no more as he suddenly pulled a hard turn. Jaren's eyes widened and he was forced to sit down before the jostling became too much. He shot his brother a glare, but Marc only smirked ahead as he focused on his flying.

"That was a dirty move," Jaren complained, crossing his arms.

"You were the one standing up," Marc answered, slowing the blue and orange speeder as they approached the manse of House Jarvi. "I'm only the pilot."

"Pilot trying to get me killed…" Jaren muttered under his breath.

"Sorry. What was that?"

"Nothing…"

Marc laughed as he landed the speeder on the pad outside their family's castle. It was a beautiful place, suspended against a mountain on the outskirts of Aldera. Their family had always preferred a quiet, peaceful existence and Jaren himself disliked the bustle of the capital. Alderaan was a stunning place as a whole, but their little bit of paradise was the best place on the planet; at least in his opinion.

Jaren jumped out of the passenger seat and took a moment to stretch his legs. He took in a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying the view of the valley below while he still had it. Beside him, Marc slowly clambered out of the speeder, still chuckling to himself. Jaren rolled his eyes as he tore them away from the view and walked to join his brother.

"Have it in your heart to forgive me?" Marc asked as he slung an arm around Jaren's shoulders.

Jaren hummed thoughtfully. "What's in it for me?"

Marc eyed him, apparently unimpressed. "You know, you'd make a good politician one day."

Jaren groaned in disgust. "Never. I want to travel the galaxy with you and Ariva, not sit in a floating circle and argue all day."

"I don't blame you." Marc smiled. "Come on. We should get back before mother finds out we were gone."

He began to walk towards the doors to the manor only to stop as his comlink started beeping. With a sigh, he stopped and lifted his wrist to his lips, pressing the activation button.

"Jarvi here…" he droned.

"Marc! You need to get up here, now!" Their older sister Ariva's voice practically screamed through the device, making Jaren jump back in surprise.

"W-what is it?" Marc stuttered, his eyes widening in concern.

"Can't explain," Ariva answered. "Might be intercepted. Just come up to my room and quickly!"

The com shut off and for a moment, there was only silence between them. Jaren stared up at his brother, questioning what to do, but Marc only took a deep breath and started to walk again.

"Come on," his brother urged. "You heard her."

Jaren ran after Marc, his heart pulsating with fear. Ariva was not a very calm person to begin with, but he had never heard her like this before. His mind told him something was very wrong, but not knowing what made his worry even greater.

They walked into the manor and made their way up the long system of stairs and ramps leading to the residential part of the castle. Once there, Marc made a beeline for Ariva's room, located at the end of the long hallway. Jaren walked along behind him, trying to keep up with his brother's long, quick strides. Marc knocked on the door when he reached it and Jaren heard scuffling inside before the door slid open, the imposing figure of Ariva Jarvi standing in front of them.

Their sister was tall, with sweeping red hair and preferring combat-friendly clothing to the typical flowing dresses worn by Alderaanian noblewomen. Behind her, Jaren could see her militarily-pristine room, along with the enormous case for her beloved rifle leaning against her windowsill.

"Ariva, wha–" Marc began before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside. Jaren scrambled to follow before she slammed the door in his face.

"You need to leave," she said bluntly, grabbing an already-packed bag and shoving it into Marc's hands.

"What? Why?" He dropped the bag at his feet. "Ariva, what's going on?"

"The Empire, that's what," she answered, picking it back up and tossing it at him. "They found out about you and they're coming. You know they don't take no for an answer."

Marc caught the bag, but stumbled backwards, staring at her dumbly. He said nothing.

"What do they want with him…?" Jaren quavered.

"He's an excellent pilot," she answered. "What else? They want anything with even a hint of talent. Plus, he's human and male, so absolutely perfect for their racist, patriarchal views."

Jaren gaped at his sister, shocked she had even said anything that bold. A friend had once told him that "the Empire was always listening" and he wasn't one to doubt him. People disappeared all the time if they even breathed a word of negativity towards their new overlords.

"Those are words that could get you killed," Marc muttered quietly, clutching at the straps of the bag.

"I don't care," she stated firmly. "Now, there's a ship waiting in the hanger. You get your–"

The roar of a ship outside cut her off. Jaren quickly ran to the window and felt his heart fall to the bottom of his chest when he saw the unmistakable white of an Imperial shuttle.

"Damn it!" Ariva exclaimed, rushing over to shut the blinds. The instant they closed, she moved over to Marc and started to drag him to the door. "You need to hide."

"Ariva, enough." Marc jerked his arm out of her grip and stood still. "I will not have you risking your safety for me."

"And I will not lose my brother to the Empire," she retorted, her dark eyes boring into him.

"You won't," he assured. "Go see mother and father. If something goes wrong, I won't have you two get in trouble for aiding me."

Jaren looked up at Marc, dread filling his heart. He was beginning to realize that no matter what happened, he would lose his brother.

Ariva eyed Marc carefully, but then nodded, surprising Jaren that she was giving in. "Just… be safe," she said, pulling him into a quick embrace.

"I will," he answered. "Now go."

Ariva gave a second quick nod and moved towards the door. "C'mon." She held out a hand to Jaren and he reluctantly followed, still looking at Marc as they left the room. He wanted to say something, but the words became caught in his throat and he found himself only silent as he and his sister left their brother.

They made their way quickly downstairs to the castle's audience room. The door was open by the time they reached it and Jaren froze when he caught a flash of white armour inside. He resisted the urge to duck behind Ariva, reminding himself that he was not a small child anymore–even if he wanted to run and hide like one.

Ariva walked inside after a moment of hesitation, Jaren deciding to still follow her, despite the shivers racing down his spine. Their parents were both there, standing in the large, mostly empty hall. Stormtroopers surrounded the area, standing at attention along the walls and in the far corners. It gave Jaren the distinct impression that if someone so much as made a move, they would all be dead in a matter of moments–not a particularly reassuring thought.

There was a man with their parents. His back was turned to Jaren, but the boy recognized him as an Imperial officer from the drab green of his uniform. But there was something about him that gave Jaren the impression that he was no ordinary one. He held himself very proudly and looked like a man of protocol and no-nonsense. Even though he could not see the man's face, Jaren already felt very nervous around him.

Their father, Beren Jarvi, caught sight of the two of them and waved them over. "Jaren, Ariva. Come greet our guest." Jaren could see unease in his father's face as he spoke.

The officer with him turned at the mention of their names and Jaren saw a face he had witnessed all over propaganda since the Empire took over. An imposing man with slicked-back auburn hair, Governor Tarkin was, in Jaren's mind, the definition of intimidation. Some would argue that the Emperor or Darth Vader had a more frightening presence, but from what he knew, the Emperor rarely left Coruscant and Jaren had never seen Darth Vader in person before nor did he know very much about him. Being only a few feet away from Tarkin put things into an entirely different perspective.

The governor looked the two of them over with a piercing glare. "Your children, Lord Jarvi?"

"Yes, Governor Tarkin," their father replied quietly.

The Imperial folded his hands behind his back and stalked over, taking slow, calculated strides.

"Do you not have three children, Lord Jarvi?" he inquired, his voice sharp and punctuated.

"I'm sure Marc will be along shortly…" their father answered, Jaren hearing the nervousness in his voice.

"I should hope so," Tarkin said. "I came all this way for him, after all." He clicked his tongue and paced a few steps. "If your son does not arrive shortly, I will have my soldiers search your house. I hope for your sake that you are not hiding him from me."

"Of course not, Governor Tarkin." Jaren stiffened when his father cast him and Ariva a knowing glance out of the corner of his eye. He felt guilty, hoping what they had done would not get their father in trouble.

Ariva seemed less concerned as she folded her arms and looked Tarkin directly in the eye. "Excuse my _insolence_, Governor Tarkin, but why exactly do you want to recruit our brother? Surely there are other more competent pilots in the galaxy."

Tarkin looked to her, a brow raised in curiosity. "Your brother came to our attention when he won the Core Worlds Classic; at the age of sixteen, nonetheless. The Empire is in need of talented pilots at the moment and we find ourselves… struggling to acquire them."

_Because you steal them away from their families, _Jaren thought to himself.

"Sir!"

The muffled voice of a stormtrooper pulled Jaren from his thoughts and he turned to see a trio of them enter the room, dragging a cuffed Marc with them. Jaren's throat tightened at the sight and he only barely stopped himself from crying out to his brother.

"Ah, the man of the hour," Tarkin said, walking towards Marc. He glanced up to his troopers. "Where did you find him?"

"In the hanger, sir. He was attempting to commandeer a ship with the intent of leaving the planet."

"Is that so?" Tarkin frowned–more than usual, at least. "And why would that be, Master Jarvi?"

Marc looked up, meeting the Governor's eyes as he said calmly, "I had no intention of joining your ranks."

"I see." Tarkin moved around him, looking him over. "And you decided this on your own?"

"Entirely," Marc responded firmly.

Tarkin's eyes narrowed. Jaren felt his heart stop for a moment, but the Moff either did not care or had his suspicions qualmed.

Tarkin straightened and turned back to their father. "Consider yourself lucky that I am only taking your son today, Lord Jarvi. I have reason to suspect that you are withholding information from me, but I have neither the time nor the resources to conduct an investigation."

"O-of course, Governor."

Tarkin moved closer, leering down at the four of them. "But should I detect even a hint of further deception or resistance, I will not hesitate to show you what happens to those who cross the Empire. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," their father said. His voice was steady, but Jaren could see him shaking, the first time he had ever witnessed his father so scared.

Governor Tarkin straightened and turned, folding his hands behind his back once more. "Then that is all. I have a schedule to keep." He waved a hand and his battalion of stormtroopers fell in around him. They dragged Marc with them, who remained still as he walked behind them.

Jaren bit his lip, trying to keep himself quiet and calm. But as he watched his brother be taken away, he found himself unable to do so if this would be the last time they would ever see each other.

"I'll find you!" he yelled, straining against Ariva when she held him back.

Marc turned his head and glanced at Jaren, his eyes wide with surprise. He tried to pull against the troopers holding him, but they kept going.

"Jaren!" he called as they rounded the corner of the door and disappeared out of sight.

"I'll find you…" Jaren sobbed, falling against his sister as the footsteps receded out of earshot and their home was filled with nothing but devastating silence.


	3. Prologue: Riala

**16 BBY, Nar Shaddaa**

"Get in here, girl!"

Riala cringed as she heard the voice shouting from the down the hall and swiftly made to obey the order. Madam Zadara was quick to anger and Riala did not care to invoke it.

The Lethan Twi'lek ran down the hall, her crimson Lekku flying out behind her as she made her way hastily towards the Madam's room. She mumbled apologies to those she scrambled past, avoiding the dirty looks she got from the other girls employed and trained there.

Madam Zadara ran a what was presented as a "school for girls." While Riala supposed she _did _teach some things, they were nothing taught in standard schools. On Nar Shaddaa, there was always a demand to please their Hutt overlords, so Madam Zadara trained girls–orphans, slaves, alien, human–to dance for them. The sick creatures enjoyed keeping pretty females as pets and Zadara ensured they were well-supplied.

Riala reached the main foyer, where Madam Zadara stood waiting for her. The human woman was in her late thirties as far as Riala was aware, but years of an addiction to Death Sticks made her look much, much older. Her silver hair was in a loose bun behind her head, her pale face plastered in heavy, dark makeup. A drink, more than likely spiked with the deadly drug, was in her hand.

"There you are," she hissed when Riala came into sight. "Come here."

Riala moved closer and stood at attention in front of the woman. "Yes, Madam Zadara?"

"Have you been stealing from me?" Zadara spat.

Riala kept a straight face as she answered, "No, Madam Zadara."

"My comb, perfume, and favourite necklace have all gone missing. Would you care to explain where they've gone?"

_Nowhere you can find them_, Riala thought to herself.

"I know nothing about that," she said.

The blow came with lightning speed. Riala stumbled back when Zadara slapped her, clutching the painful bruise to her cheek. It was not the first time the Madam had hit her, but it never got any better.

"Lie to me again and I'll have you sold to someone far, far worse than me," Zadara threatened.

Riala glared at her, her mind cycling through all the things she wished she could do to the woman. She rubbed the bruise and said nothing.

"Now, I'll ask again: what happened to my things?" Zadara leaned in closer, her piercing green stare boring into Riala's skull.

Riala kept her mouth shut, fully intending to take another hit. Zadara raised her hand, intending to do just that, but then a girl rushed in and she hesitated.

"What is it?" Zadara snapped.

The older girl shied back, meekly folding her hands over her abdomen and bowing her head. "There's someone here to see you…"

"Who?"

"A bounty hunter, ma'am. She's here about Tess…"

Riala's heart stopped at the mention of Tess' name and she did her best to keep her shock hidden. She hoped it was not what she thought it was…

Zadara flexed her fingers and backed away with an exasperated sigh. "We will discuss this later," she hissed to Riala. "Now, get out of my sight."

Riala seized the opportunity to leave before Zadara changed her mind and pattered away, moving back into the hall. However, rather than continue back to her room, she ducked into a corner behind the coat rack near the door. There was a hole there small enough not to be noticed, but still large enough to see through. She pressed an eye against it and watched.

Zadara ditched the glass and smoothed her dress, taking a few seconds to make herself presentable. Riala rolled her eyes.

The door slid open and a Nautolan walked in. She certainly looked the part of a bounty hunter–armed to the teeth with blasters, thermal detonators and blades. Half of a helmet covered her head, concealing her face, but letting Riala see her stunning orange and red tendrils.

"_Achuta_!" Madam Zadara said brightly. "Welcome to Zadara's School for Girls. How may I help you?"

The bounty hunter said nothing at first, instead shouting a word in Huttese towards the door. There was a sharp gasp and then a young Zeltron woman stumbled into the foyer.

Riala covered her mouth to hide her own gasp when she saw Tess. The blue-haired Zeltron had been her only friend since she was first sold to Madam Zadara, a kind soul who had comforted her and defended her. It had only been right to help her when she needed it, but all for nothing…

"I found your missing girl," the bounty hunter said, her voice distorted by the mask.

Zadara stared at Tess for a moment, seemingly still taking it in. "Where was she?"

"Attempting to leave the planet with her boyfriend," the hunter answered.

Zadara's eyes widened. "Boyfriend? What boyfriend?"

"Some human boy. Turned him over to the Hutts."

"They'll kill him!" Tess sobbed.

"He wasn't part of the job," the hunter answered, grabbing her arm and moving her closer to Zadara. Tess whimpered in fear and pain, and Riala found herself unable to stand aside any longer.

"Stop!"

Riala ran out of her hiding place and threw herself between Tess and Zadara before the bounty hunter could hand her over. Both the madam and hunter paused to stare at her, seemingly caught off-guard by this action.

"Little wretch!" Zadara yelled. "You helped her, didn't you?"

"This was no life for her," Riala snarled back. "I wanted her to have a chance to get away from this horrible place."

"Child, leave," the bounty hunter ordered. "This is not your matter."

"No!" Zadara shouted. "She will stay and you will show her what it means when I am crossed!"

Riala looked at Zadara and had no trouble imagining smoke pouring out of her ears. She had seen the madam angry before, but not quite like this.

Even behind her mask, Riala could feel the glare the Nautolan directed towards Zadara. "I do not harm children," she said firmly. She let go of Tess, casting her at Zadara's feet. "I'll take my payment. Do not expect me to do you any favours again."

Riala moved to Tess quickly and helped her up. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Tess shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. Riala fought back the urge to do the same, the Zeltron's pheromones overwhelming her.

"You did all this for me and I wasted it…" Tess sobbed.

"No." Riala shook her head. "It's not your fault." She glared up at the hunter as she spoke. "You still have a chance," she whispered. "Run when I tell you."

Tess gaped at her, but nodded.

Riala got to her feet and assessed the situation. Zadara was in the back corner of the room, grumbling as she pulled payment out of her safe. The bounty hunter stood nearby, arms crossed as she watched Zadara. Riala smirked. _Perfect. _

She raised a hand towards the chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. The power she had once felt before coursed through her and she focused it, crushing the fixture's supports in the ceiling.

The chandelier fell, crashing into the ground with a loud bang. Riala moved quickly while she had the chance, shoving Tess towards the door before the others could react.

"Run!" she yelled.

Tess stumbled out the door and disappeared, sending a wave of relief through Riala. She waited a few moments to ensure Tess got some distance and then turned to see what she had done.

The middle of the room was a mess, filled with broken metal, chunks of rock and all of Zadara's garbage that had been crushed beneath the chandelier. Zadara herself and the hunter stood in the back, both looking in her direction.

"Insolent cur!" Zadara screamed, clambering over the mess towards her. "When I hand you over to the Hutts…"

Riala stood her ground, glaring at the human as she got closer. She stayed quiet.

Before Zadara could reach her, the bounty hunter stepped in and held a hand out to stop the madam. "I'll buy her from you," the Nautolan said.

Zadara blinked. "What?"

"If you give her to me, I'll consider it my payment."

Zadara hesitated and Riala considered running for it. Going from one cruel master to another was _not_ what she wanted. She took a step towards the door, but something suddenly held her in place. She tried to struggle against it, to no avail.

"Fine," Zadara caved. "If one useless girl means so much to you, she's yours. Just get her out of my sight."

The hunter inclined her head and then walked towards Riala. She grabbed the girl by the arm and began to drag her out of the building.

"Let me go!" Riala tugged against the hunter's iron grip.

"Be quiet," the hunter hissed.

They went a short distance into the city, away from Madam Zadara's before the hunter went down an alley and stopped.

Riala pulled her arm out of the Nautolan's grip and backed a few feet away. "What do you want with me?" she demanded.

The hunter lifted a hand and removed her mask. Riala expected something mean and scarred, but was surprised to find a kind face, etched with lines of age and exhaustion. Her large black eyes looked at Riala non-threateningly.

"What is your name?" the hunter asked.

"Riala Asharadi. What's yours?"

The Nautolan looked away, deep thought growing in her face. "I was once called Eila Dremura…"

Riala raised a brow, her lekku twitching with intrigue. "Are you not anymore?"

"I have lost my way, gone down a path different from my life before. I had little choice."

Riala narrowed her eyes. "Who are you…?"

Eila reached into the pack she carried and pulled out a cylindrical object. Riala looked at it curiously, swearing she had seen something like it once before back on Ryloth during the Clone Wars.

"Is that…?" Riala's eyes widened as she began to realize what it was.

Eila twisted her hand and the object lifted into the air, hovering just above her palm. "I was once a Jedi, in service to a Republic that betrayed me."

Riala looked up at her. "Why become a bounty hunter?"

Eila sighed. "Clone troopers killed my apprentice and I slaughtered them when they tried to kill me. The Dark Side claimed me for a time, so I became one as a way to hide myself."

"What made you come back?" Riala asked.

Eila smiled softly. "You."

Riala stepped back. "Me? What did I do?"

"You risked your own safety for that of another. In the time since the Empire took power, I have seldom seen that." She paused. "Might I ask how you were able to bring the chandelier down?"

Riala curled her fingers. "I don't know. I've always known the power was there, but it doesn't come to me unless I really want to use it."

"Riala, I would like to train you how to use that power," Eila offered. "Too long have I strayed from the Light. I want to pass on what I have learned, ensure that it does not vanish with me."

Riala's eyes grew wide. "You'd train me to be a Jedi?!"

Eila put a finger to her lips and Riala covered her mouth, realizing she'd practically shouted it.

"I would," Eila answered, "but first, we must leave this planet. It is no place to teach you. I have a ship at the port. If you would like to become my apprentice, will you come with me?"

Riala had no hesitation. Although she thought maybe she should be scared or worried, this was better than anything her life had had to offer. She had been orphaned, kidnapped, sold into slavery and abused over the better part of five years. How much worse could it get?

"Of course I will," she answered.

Eila smiled and after returning the lightsaber to her pack, held out a hand to the girl. "Shall we then?"

Riala took her hand and for the first time in years, smiled back. "Let's go."


	4. Fourth Sister

**5 BBY, Coruscant**

In the depths of the Inquisitor Spire, Sariah sat cross-legged, her arms extended, as she meditated in her small chamber. She was silent, fearful of being overheard, but in her head, she repeated the words she had told herself for the past fourteen years.

_My name is Sariah Danier. I was a Jedi, but the Jedi betrayed the Republic. Lord Vader gave me mercy. I owe him my life. That is why I fight for him, hunting Jedi in the name of the Emperor as the Fourth Sister. I was supposed to forget my name, but it is all I have left. _

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Illuminated only by thin streaks of light from the closed blinds, she stared at the mask and lightsaber mounted across from her. Thirteen years ago, she had made them when she was christened a member of the Inquisitorius.

Extending a hand, she grabbed the mask and lifted it close to her face. It was simple, but certainly enough to intimidate her enemies and make them fear her. Thin, angled red lenses gave the illusion of a demon's eyes, while two spikes near the mouthpiece made it look like she had fangs.

Her lightsaber was equally terrifying, accented with sharp blades so that she cut kill someone with the hilt if she needed to. It had taken some time to get used to it, but now she felt practically invincible when wielding it. Many Jedi had fallen to that blade and with every one, she carved a new mark into the hilt.

There was a knock at her door and she took her eyes away from her only material possessions.

"Enter."

The door slid open and a woman Sariah only knew as the First Sister stepped inside. She was without her mask, revealing her stunning features. Sariah often thought she was too pretty to be an Inquisitor, with her long, voluptuous red hair, piercing green eyes and a shapely figure accented by tight-fitting clothing.

"What is it?" Sariah asked, standing to greet her.

The First Sister leaned against the doorway. "Vader has called for you. Something about a Jedi."

Sariah nodded and held out a hand. Her lightsaber flew into it and she attached it to her belt. She lifted her mask to her face and put it on, the infrared lenses activating.

"Let's not keep him waiting."

Sariah walked through the Inquisitor headquarters with speed, knowing Vader was not one to be kept waiting. She passed her peers as she made her way, catching glimpses of what they were doing out of the corner of her eye.

Fellow Mirialans Second and Seventh Sisters were sparring, their lightsabers spinning with incredible speed. She did not know the name of the Seventh Sister, but was perfectly aware that the Second had once been Barriss Offee. They could have been friends once, but now they were scarcely more than associates.

The door was open when Sariah reached the audience chamber. She walked inside, where Vader was waiting for her. His back was turned to her, but she knew he was aware of her presence the moment she entered.

"Fourth Sister," he droned, his mechanical voice deep and cold.

Sariah dropped to one knee. "Lord Vader, you called for me?"

Darth Vader turned, his mask hiding any evidence of emotion in his face. "The Emperor's spies have located a Jedi in the outer rim. She is a Nautolan named Eila Dremura. She vanished after Order 66 and has only just reappeared. We also received word that she is travelling with an apprentice."

"My orders?" Sariah asked.

"Locate Dremura and kill her. Bring the apprentice to us."

Sariah inclined her head. "It will be done, my lord."

"Do not fail me again," he warned. "Last time, I took your arm; should you come back empty-handed, I will take your life."

Sariah gulped, glad the mask hid her face. "Understood, my lord."

Vader waved a hand as he turned back to the chart he had been looking at. "Your ship is waiting in the hanger. Do not disappoint me."

Sariah bowed and backed out of the room. She put a bit of distance between herself and Vader before she ducked into a corner and took a deep breath. She clutched her right arm and curled her fingers, the metal limb reacting perfectly. Vader had taken three parts of her body over the years.

Her left leg had been first, cut off in a training session as punishment for doing poorly. Her left eye had later been surgically removed to be replaced with a cybernetic one for recon purposes. She didn't mind that one so much, given how much it helped her since she had acquired it. It was the right arm that hurt the most, taken for the failure of her last mission. She had been stupid, made mistakes, and paid for it.

After a moment, she pried herself away from the wall and cleared her thoughts. She set off for the hanger, not letting a pang of worry take her away from her mission.

Her ship was waiting and prepped when she arrived. It was a modified TIE-fighter with hyperdrive capabilities and extra space for cargo… or prisoners.

Sariah waved away the droids who had been preparing it and climbed into the cockpit. She flicked on the power and set about readying herself to take off. The hanger door opened and she saw Coruscant on the horizon. Taking control of the wheel, she lifted the ship off the platform and flew off into the skyline. After clearing the atmosphere, she pulled up the coordinates of Dremura's last known location and punched them in. This time she would do her master proud; this time, she would not fail.


	5. Undercover

**Author's Note**

Long time no see! I apologize for the long wait. Got caught up doing other things, but I'm back! Now, I probably won't be able to keep a consistent schedule, but I will try to regularly update with a new chapter every week or so. Anyways, as always, enjoy and reviews/constructive criticism are always appreciated!

**5 BBY, Dantooine**

Jaren sprinted through the halls of the Dantooine Base, haphazardly shouting apologies to everyone he accidentally shoved or knocked over in his rush. He _could not _be late. Sure, Ariva would pummel him, but more importantly, he would never have the chance to receive a mission like this again. Tardiness would certainly not look very good in the eyes of the Rebellion leaders, especially for something as precise as this. If he lost this chance…

Jaren skidded to a halt just in front of the door to central command, narrowly avoiding bashing directly into it and giving himself a concussion. His foot tapped rapidly against the floor as he took a few precious seconds to straighten his shirt and smooth his hair. It was probably a waste of time, but he had no idea whether looking presentable would do anything better for him. Worth a try, he supposed as he pressed the door signal.

The door whirred as it slid open, revealing the darkly-lit, active room within. Rebellion communicators worked in all corners of the room behind holodesks, the sound of a dozen voices and clicking buttons reverberating around the space. In the centre of it all was a large holoprojector, currently deactivated, but surrounded by a very specific and very important group of people.

Ariva was leaning over the projector, her enormous rifle slung over her back as it always was. Her hazel eyes locked on Jaren as he walked in, giving him a look that he immediately interpreted as 'mess this up and I'm never talking to you again.' He gulped.

Around Ariva were three of the most important members of the Rebellion. Garbed in her white dress with her characteristically-short auburn hair, Mon Mothma stood poised, her hands clasped just so. Bail Organa, a man Jaren was quite familiar with, stood at her side, looking weary as he always did. After Marc was drafted, Senator Organa had approached their family, looking for Alderaanian individuals sympathetic to a rebellion against the cruelty of the Empire. Ariva had signed up without batting an eye, despite their parents' attempts to dissuade her. Jaren had been too young at the time, but four years ago, he had finally been allowed to go and join his sister.

The third individual was perhaps the single most interesting person in the Rebellion and responsible for the mission he was about to undertake. Jaren had never been fully aware of who she was and her history, but did know that the Togruta known only as Fulcrum was a former Jedi, obvious from the silver hilts clipped to her belt. She intimidated him, even though she always had a pleasant demeanour whenever he happened to encounter her.

Jaren meekly approached the leaders and stood at attention, swallowing his worries. "Private Jarvi reporting for duty!"

Senator Organa waved a hand. "At ease."

Jaren adjusted and waited for his orders.

"You know why you are here?" Senator Mothma asked, looking over him slowly.

"An assignment for a mission to infiltrate an Imperial shipyard orbiting Balmorra," he answered.

"And the purpose of this mission?"

"Gather information on new projects. Observation only."

Fulcrum nodded. "Don't let your emotions overtake you. I sense… conflict within you."

Jaren tried not to show his 'inner conflict,' if that was even possible of showing up on his face. He knew Jedi could not read minds, but their powers were close enough and he feared anything that could risk him being put off the mission.

"My conscience is clear. The mission comes first." Ariva glared at him for that, but he tried to ignore her.

"Do you believe you are prepared for this?" Senator Mothma asked. "It will be dangerous and there is a chance you may not return."

Jaren nodded. "I do, senator."

"Then report to the hanger," Senator Organa ordered. "Your ship is waiting for you." He made to leave, looking like his mind was elsewhere.

"I'll escort him there." Ariva pried herself off the holoprojector and sauntered over to him, shooting him a look that made him very afraid of being alone with her.

"Thank you, Captain Jarvi." Senator Mothma inclined her head. "Return to us when you are finished."

"You got it. Come on, Jaren." She walked straight past him towards the door and Jaren followed after giving an apologetic look to the two women.

"Jaren…" Fulcrum's voice made him stop and he turned to see her looking at him sadly. "I know what you are looking for and how much it matters to you, but do not let it overtake you. I see only pain for your future should you lose sight of your true path in life."

Jaren stared at her, any answer he could find becoming caught in the back of his throat. After a couple seconds, all he managed to say was, "Y-yes, Commander…" before Ariva grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway.

"Ariva, I'm sorry… I panicked…" he mumbled as he was pulled along towards the hanger.

"Do you know how many strings I've had to pull to get you this?" she demanded. "And then you go and lie to them, to _her_."

"What else was I supposed to say?" he retorted. "The truth? They would pull me off the mission!"

She stopped and bent down, staring him directly in the eye. "Jaren, the only reason I did this is because you would have gotten in so much trouble if I had let you do it yourself. Marc is dead! And if he isn't, it's been eleven years. For all we know, he's been brainwashed into one of them. It's pointless. Just do as you've been told and don't go wandering where you shouldn't."

Jaren held his ground. Ariva might have given up years ago, but he would _never _leave Marc behind until the day he knew his fate. "He's alive. I know he is and I'm going to find him and bring him home."

Ariva said nothing, her expression speaking enough for her. Jaren knew there would be no changing her mind. She had been angry for the first few months and tried to find him as well, but when word of a Rebellion came, all of her focus went to that. It broke Jaren's heart, but her reasoning was that one person should never come before the bigger picture and if they did not fight back, more families would have to experience the same as they did. For a time, he had tried to follow her, but Marc was all he could ever think about and he knew he had to find him.

They walked to the hanger in silence, where Jaren saw his ride, an unmarked freighter, waiting. He was not the only participant on this mission, joining a small group of rebel spies who would be dropped off at different locations. Ariva stopped a few feet from the ship and Jaren hesiated in leaving her, unsure if he should say anything. He began walking regardless, but Ariva cleared her throat and he turned to see her looking at him sadly.

"All I ask… is that whatever you do, I don't have to tell mom and dad that they lost another son."

Jaren's throat tightened and all he could manage was a small nod. Ariva gave him a wave and walked away, shaking her head to herself. Jaren bit his lip, feeling guilty about his choice. He took a deep breath, assuring himself that this had to be done, and took his first step towards an uncertain future.


	6. Master and Apprentice

**5 BBY, Utapau**

Riala stood at the precipice, gazing into the pool lying deep in the chasm in front of her. To others, the thought of jumping into it might have been daunting, but she felt no fear, for she was a Jedi and fear was an illusion.

"Calm your mind," Master Dremura called from the rock she sat on nearby, her legs folded in meditation. "Let The Force flow through you. Place your faith in The Force and anything you desire can be accomplished."

Riala took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"There is no emotion, there is peace."

She spread her arms, readying herself.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

She propped herself on her toes, feeling the wind rush over her.

"There is no passion, there is serenity."

She dared a step forwards, dangling a foot over the edge.

"There is no chaos, there is harmony."

Her eyes opened, catching the sun shining on her from above. Riala smiled.

"There is no death, there is The Force."

She fell from the cliff with no fear, letting the wind rush across her skin. Her Lekku flowed out behind her, the cool sensation wonderful over the sensitive tendrils. She shifted into a diving position, inching closer and closer to the pool.

She hit the water smoothly, shooting into it at an angle to reduce the impact. Without moving a muscle, she nearly reached the bottom of the deep sinkhole, coming to a halt several meters beneath the surface. Riala held her breath and in the short period of time she had, she set about conducting what Master Dremura had taught her. The Force flowed through her and she spread its influence into the water around her. A whirlpool of water gathered around her, spinning in a violent, yet controlled torrent with her as the eye.

Riala released The Force she had been containing and shot upwards, propelled by the waterspout she had created. In mere seconds, she cleared the entire depth of the sinkhole and arrived back where she had started. Utilizing the propulsion she had created, Riala launched herself from the end of the spout, briefly experiencing the sensation of flying before she landed next to her master in a roll.

She panted, her breaths escaping her in short, quick bursts, feeling water dripping off her skin and clothes. Pride coursed through her; after years of practice, she had finally done it, achieving her modified version of the Trial of Skill, the fourth of her trials to become a Jedi Knight.

She had spent the last few years completing the Jedi Trials under Master Dremua's instruction. Given that the pair of them lacked the formal requirements to do so, they were heavily modified and done according to convenience rather than the proper order.

The Trial of the Flesh had been first, happening more by chance than on purpose. Master Dremura quitting her job as a bounty hunter had been received very sourly and Riala was blamed for it. Only months after becoming Dremura's apprentice, Riala had been taken by rival bounty hunters as a hostage. She still had the scars all over her back and shoulders from the couple of days she had been in their clutches.

Her Trial of Insight had been created by Master Dremura. A replica of old Jedi versions of the Trial, she had set up a room full of stones and ordered Riala to locate the single grain of sand amongst them without moving. It had taken her hours to find it.

The Trial of Spirit had been the hardest, both to complete and find a way to do it. They had risked detection to venture to an old Jedi Temple on Tython, where Riala had ventured into an ancient cave system and faced her demons. The memories still made her shiver, so it was best to not think of them.

Once she had sufficiently caught her breath, Riala shifted into a kneel in front of her master, waiting for acknowledgement. Dremura stood and Riala felt her hand descend onto her shoulder, her beaded Padawan braid brushing against her tchin from the motion.

"You are one step closer to becoming a Jedi," Eila remarked. "Only one trial awaits you, that being the Trial of Courage. When this is finished, you will build your lightsaber and be the first step to keeping the Jedi Order alive."

Riala bent her head. "I am honoured to be your apprentice."

Eila gave her the indication to stand. "We will depart for Balmorra soon."

Riala got to her feet and set about pulling on her jacket. "What is on Balmorra?"

"An Imperial munitions factory," Eila answered. "An old associate of mine found out that they're transporting Kyber crystals to the factory. Not certain why, but this is our chance to obtain the materials necessary for your lightsaber and for you to complete your Trial of Courage."

Riala nodded. "We're leaving immediately then?"

"Yes. We have lingered on this planet for too long. It is only a matter of time before people start to notice things, start to talk."

Riala sighed. Such was the story of their lives. They never stayed on one planet for longer than two dozen rotations. With the Empire offering large rewards for information on Jedi, any suspicious behaviour on their part was likely to get people talking.

Once Riala was dressed, the pair of them set off back towards Pau City and their ship. They had gone to a sinkhole some distance away for privacy, leaving a long walk back through treacherous terrain. Riala didn't mind, as it gave her plenty of time to think. She had come far since her days with Zadara. The daring little brat gone, made way for a woman–a _Jedi_–with a great purpose in life. Through Master Dremura, she had learned about the Jedi of the past, their ways and teachings, so that she could keep them alive for a future generation. It was an enormous weight upon her shoulders, but she was grateful to be deemed worthy of keeping such precious information.

They reached Pau City in silence, Riala's ears suddenly ringing with the yelping of Varactyls all around her. She had never heard such an obnoxious sound in her life prior to coming to Utapau; it was one of the things she certainly would not miss upon leaving this planet.

Utapau was average on the scale of planets she had been to thus far. It was not the worst, but she had seen better, although it was out of the way and secluded for the most part. The Empire had little presence there, making it a safe haven for the pair of them. Still, there were always eyes watching and ears listening. If she had learned one thing, it was to never get too comfortable.

Riala pulled up her hood as they entered the city, trying to keep a low profile. On a planet filled with Pau'ans and Utai, a brightly-coloured Twi'lek and Nautolan stood out. Master Dremura did the same. They neared the hanger, where Eila's ship, _The Amber Blade_, was waiting. It was where they had left it, with a group of Utai attending to fuel and maintenance. Eila waved them away at their approach and the little creatures scattered away.

Riala frowned. Not that they were very brave things to begin with, but the Utai seemed on edge. As she looked around the area, she realized how quiet it was, feeling almost abandoned. Something wasn't right…

"Master…" she muttered, a dark feeling crawling its way into her.

"I know. I sense it too." Master Dremura opened the ship's airlock, staying calm despite what they both felt. "Get on board. Start the ship."

"But-"

"Do as I say."

Riala swallowed her response and moved towards the ship's ramp. Shivers ran down her spine and she knew whatever that feeling was, was getting closer.

She took a step onto the ship and then heard cold, cruel laughter behind her. Daring to turn, Riala saw a single figure approaching their ship, dressed in all black like a shadow.

"How rude of you, Master Jedi," the figure crooned, a hissing, mechanical female voice emanating from the mask she wore. "You sense my presence and try to flee." She reached for her belt and drew a circular lightsaber, a red blade igniting on both ends.

_An Inquisitor_. Riala's heart skipped a beat. They had encountered an Inquisitor before, but from a distance and even that had been terrifying. The Inquisitor had been dragging a young girl from her home, the child's parents screaming for mercy as she was taken from them. It had been hard to stand by and watch, but if they had interfered, things could have been much, much worse. Now that one had found them, she feared what would happen now.

"Riala, start the ship," Eila whispered.

"I'm not leaving you," Riala insisted.

"_Go. Now._" Eila growled, her fingers reaching for the lightsaber in her pack.

Riala flinched and moved without having to be told again. When Eila took that tone with her, Riala knew not to question her. She ran inside the modified G9 Rigger, sprinting through the cargo bay into the cockpit. R3-D1, Eila's red astromech, beeped as she entered, rolling over to her with some inquisitive chirping. She flipped the ignition switches and the ship hummed to life, but all she could hear was the sound of lightsabers clashing outside.

"Redi!" she yelled, rushing over to the weapons rack on the other side of the cockpit. "Get ready to take off when I tell you!"

Redi chirped again.

"Can't explain! Just do it!" Riala grabbed a blaster and ran to help Eila. She skidded through the doorway and ran back down the cargo ramp.

Eila and the Inquisitor were sparring in the hanger, the scene already strewn with the signs of their battle. Half of the Inquisitor's mask was on one side, one of Eila's severed tendrils on the other. Sparks of light flew as their lightsabers clashed with immeasurable speed. Eila's green blade seemed inferior compared to the Inquisitor's spinning blade, but she was able to keep up, a testament to her skills in Makashi. Still, Riala could see exhaustion in her master's face and knew she would not last much longer. The Inquisitor, of whom Riala could only see a single yellow eye and a group of geometric tattoos beneath it, hardly seemed tired at all.

Riala raised the blaster and took aim, but they were moving too fast; she risked hitting Eila. Not willing to risk it, Riala sheathed the blaster and grasped for another solution. She began to gather The Force around her into her right hand, knowing she would have one chance.

"Hey!" she yelled.

The Inquisitor halted for only a moment to look at her, but a moment was all Riala needed. She thrust her hand forward, unleashing The Force to send the Inquisitor careening backwards. Riala ran while she had the chance, grabbing her master, who was on the verge of collapse, and started to move back toward the ship as quickly as she could. Eila's breathing was strained and Riala saw for the first time that she had a long cauterized gash across her stomach. Riala moved faster, half-dragging her master into the ship's cargo hold.

"Redi!" she shouted into her comlink. "Get us out of here now!"

The ship began to move. Riala didn't bother closing the cargo bay door, focused instead on getting Eila into the ship's small medbay. She made it another step further into the ship, feeling safe, when loud humming grew behind her and she heard Eila gasp sharply in pain.

Riala caught her master as she fell, snapping around to look at the hanger below. The Inquisitor stood at the edge, catching the lightsaber she had thrown, her visible yellow eye flashing with anger. Riala set her master down and rushed to the door controls, slamming the button as hard as she could. She had never felt pain quite like those few seconds waiting for it to close, but the Inquisitor did not attack again. By that point, they were clearing the sinkhole and in ascent to leave the planet.

Once the door was fully closed, Riala rushed over to Eila and tried to assess the damage, but there was nothing she could do even if she tried. The Nautolan had nearly been cut in half, her upper back and arms bearing deep horizontal burns. She wheezed for air, clawing at Riala's arm as the girl tried to think of some way to save her.

"No…" Eila lifted her hand and pressed her lightsaber against Riala's chest. "Do not mourn for me… you must escape… the Jedi… you are their… last… hope…"

Riala placed her own hand overtop of Eila's, tears flooding her eyes. "Please…" she sobbed. "Don't leave me…"

Eila's bleeding lips cracked into a content smile as the light faded from her eyes. "I'll always be with you…" Her breath escaped her in a deep exhale before she fell limp in Riala's arms.

"No!" Riala screamed, clutching at her master's body, trying to get some kind of response. Her heart knew before her mind did, filling her chest with unimaginable pain. The world became cold and in that dark, empty cargo hold, the young Twi'lek had never felt so alone.


	7. Anger leads to Hate

**Author's note**

This one is pretty short, but it's mostly an intermediate chapter before the full action begins! The storylines will start to converge soon, I promise!

**5 BBY, Utapau**

"No!"

Sariah screamed as she watched the ship fly away, her prize slipping through her fingers. Her fingers curled around her lightsaber, gripping it until her fingers went numb. Her face still hurt from the slash which had carved her mask in two, but that was inconsequential compared to the pain she would feel if Vader found out she had lost her prize.

She stalked away from the edge, back into the sunken city. Her ship was in a different hanger, a necessary decision for the Jedi to not know she had been there, but a stupid one in hinesight, given how far she had to walk. Not that it mattered anyways, she thought as she pulled out the indicator for the tracker she had placed on the Jedi's ship. It beeped steadily, showing her a rapidly-changing set of coordinates as the girl soared away from the planet. Once she stopped, Sariah would find her and end this.

The Pa'uans and Utai shied away at her approach, keeping to the shadows and alleyways in fear of her, as they should be. She marched through the city, her face stinging from the slash which would leave a noticeable scar. She would wear it with pride, her proof that she had killed a Jedi. Vader and the others would no longer laugh at her behind her back. All she had to do was drag that insolent little girl back to Coruscant and she would show them her true worth.

"Prepare my ship!" she screamed at some engineers once she reached the other hanger. The little Utai scrambled over to her TIE fighter, readying fuel and any necessary repairs for however far she would have to travel.

She walked to the edge of the platform, staring into the sinkhole below her. Her vision was obscured, one eye swollen from the wound, the other covered by the remainder of her mask. She pried the mask off, ignoring the pain it caused, and stared at it. The girl had seen her damn face, so what did it matter anymore? The illusion was gone.

Sariah threw the mask into the sinkhole and watched it fall until it hit the water and sunk beyond her sight. The mask had been her shield, a defense more than anything. Other Inquisitors–_stupid_ Inquisitors–thought it was a weapon, something to scare their victims, but it only hid the truth. A wicked smile cracked across her lips. That Padawan didn't know what she had done. With her shield gone, Sariah could truly unleash herself.

Her holocommunicator beeped. Sariah lifted it from her belt and held it up to her face, pressing the activator. Her chest tightened when the miniature hologram of Darth Vader appeared.

"Mission report," he demanded.

"The Jedi is dead," Sariah said calmly.

"You are certain?" he asked.

"I am."

"And the apprentice?"

Sariah hesitated, knowing her answer could decide her fate. "Escaped, but I will soon have her in my clutches."

Vader crossed his arms and although she could not see his face, Sariah knew she had misstepped.

"You have one rotation," he growled. "If you do not have proof of her capture by the end of that time, your tenure as my servant will be at an end and I will have no loose ends roaming around the Galaxy. This is your last chance."

Sariah gasped, feeling her throat tighten as the hologram of Vader lifted a hand and began to tighten it.

"Do not fail me again," he ordered before the projector shut off and Sariah could breathe properly again.

She rubbed her neck, still feeling that touch of his power. He was halfway across the Galaxy and it could still affect her. Nothing else scared her quite like he did and that ultimatum was her last chance. If she didn't find the girl, it would be better to just throw herself out an airlock than face his wrath.

There was some chirping in the Utapaun language beside her and she snapped to see an Utai standing there, hesitantly pointing toward the TIE fighter. Sariah tilted her head at the little creature before she lifted a hand and used the Force to throw him off the side of the hanger and into the sinkhole. His little scream was satisfying to hear after her chat with Vader.

"Anyone else?" she demanded, turning to the other Utai in the hanger.

They all slunk back, hanging their heads in response. A couple were shivering in fear.

"That's what I thought." Reinvigorated, Sariah walked to her fighter. She took out the tracker and saw the still-changing coordinates. One girl between her and death. She smiled. Once she stopped, that little Twi'Lek would not know what hit her when an Inquisitor's fury came for her. Sariah would not let Lord Vader down again; of that, she would ensure.


End file.
